I Guess It's the End
by romatomate
Summary: Even immortality has a time limit -Romanada-


Gilbert hadn't been able to sleep well for the past week.

It was nearly December now and he knew his time was running short. He was growing weak and forgetting things from his past and even things he had just been told.

* * *

He gave up on trying to sleep, and he felt his heart pick up an anxious beat again. It stabbed and rang throughout his body. Guilt, emptiness, worry. With each pulse he felt another terrible emotion. He pushed his self out of his bed, careful to not make any noise. He didn't want to wake Gilbird, who had been picking up on his intense stress.

The albino picked up his phone, put on his jacket, and left his room. At the front door he slipped on a pair of flip-flops and went out into the shocking, pre-winter cold.

Gilbert rubbed his hands together as he paced around the outside of his brother's house. The bite wound had scabbed over, but besides that had not improved much. He was confident his healing was slower than even a human's. Gilbert sighed and took out his phone. There was only one person he could think of who might, remotely be experiencing his situation. The white haired German really did not want to call this person.

Yet, he felt he had no choice. Within the wind and ice of the season, Gilbert felt a hopelessness surrounding him, suffocating him, filling his lungs with death and hatred and anger. The contact selected on his phone was the only nation who could understand this, he had, after all, been experiencing hate and anger all his life, at least, as far as Gilbert could remember.

The German pressed the call button and put the phone to his ear. It rang, then the ringing stopped. Silence. Then Loviano hissed, "DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS, BASTARD?"

Gilbert flinched despite the quietness of the insult. "Ja," he paused a second, he didn't know what to say, he hadn't known at all. In the back he heard shuffling and sliding door being opened.

"Speak," the Italian commanded, with something obviously his his mouth. Gilbert listened as he heard something click, a lighter. Gilbert took a deep breath, then he spoke.

—–

Loviano was scared out of his wits, and not normal fear, but a new fear. He wasn't afraid of people or his brother being hurt, he found himself afraid of dying. Yet, it wasn't this fear that allowed him to persuade his Canadian boyfriend to fly all the way to Italy. The fear that let him do that was the fear of the unknown. What would happen when he died? How would everyone act? Besides Feliciano and Matthew, who would even care that he was gone?

Loviano jumped, as his bitterly endless thoughts were interrupted by the ring of his phone. He hurried to answer it so it would stop ringing, he didn't want to wake the blonde beside him. Quickly he slipped out of the bed and left the room.

The door closed with a tiny click behind his as he punished the man who bothered him, "DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS, BASTARD?" he whispered, not even checking the caller ID.

"Ja," the other responded. Loviano then knew exactly who it was., Gilbert. The Italian picked up his jacket from a kitchen chair, making sure his smokes were in the pocket. Then he opened up the door to the balcony and walked out, glaring at the city below him. Rome was hardly a city that slept, yet today, with the sudden chill of winter, its inhabitants appeared to be snug in their warm beds. Loviano felt a pang of jealousy. He placed a cigarette between his teeth.

"Speak," he instructed the German, lighting his smoke.

There was a pause.

"I'm too awesome to be calling you like this," Gilbert sighed.

Loviano inhaled the sickeningly sweet smoke, he exhaled and waited. Gilbert said nothing more. "How long have you known?"

The German shook his head, "Known what?"

"That you're going to die," The brown haired cynic tsked, "That we are dying."

"About a month… You?"

"I've known for a while, but, I guess it didn't hit me until a week ago." Loviano looked longingly at his city, "This is bullshit."

Gilbert found himself in the backyard, he stopped walking and embraced the cold. "It's life."

"Actually, idiot, it's death." Another pause, another blank moment in their numbered time wasted. "How much time do you think we have?"

"Don't know…" Gilbert looked up at the sky, surprised to see stars instead of clouds, "I've seen others die before… Some pass away quickly, some slowly and painfully, others go slow and then simply all at once."

Loviano felt a tear slide down his cheek. "I… I don't want to die. For once in this stupid life I'm finally happy! I've wasted everything!" He yelled, no, he pleaded with the phone, "I just need more time dammit."

"Nein," Gilbert scolded him, "Shut up! We have had all the time we deserved! If you think for one second that just because you've blown away your life hating the people around who love and care for you means you deserve more than you're wrong. Everything about that is wrong and selfish and makes me wish you had less time!" The white haired man was yelling now, with no intention of slowing down. "Do you know how many people tried to make _you_ feel safe, make _you_ feel appreciated? And for what? All I've ever seen you do is spit on people who help you! If anything _I_ deserve more time! I get it, I'm loud and proud and alone, but guess what! I've always been happy, _I_ never treated my younger brother like dirt, never made him feel like I hate him. That's all you do to yours though. You hate him and-"

Loviano couldn't take the insults anymore, "SHUT UP!" He screamed, "You don't know why I do what I do. I love my brother and I _do_ take note of what people do. You're so confident in yourself. I never had that until recently. You weren't abandoned and picked on. You never saw yourself as second rate and useless. Do not tell me that I don't deserve to live. _Every one_ deserves a second chance."

The Italian inhaled sharply, and wiped at his eyes. He had dropped his cigarette, which now burnt dimly beside him. As he turned and picked it back up he saw himself face to face with Matthew. "Hold on," he spoke into the phone, bent over and unmoving. "Did… did I wake you?"

"Stop," the blonde requested, his violet eyes pleading.

Loviano picked up the cigarette and stood straight up. "How much did you hear?"

"You're dying?" Matthew choked, pulling the blanket tighter around himself, as if this could prevent the sinking feeling inside of him from tearing him down. As if this would stop his world from falling apart.

"Si…" Loviano raised the phone to his ear, "I've got to-"

"No, I want to talk to whoever is on the other end of that call."

"That's not your choice to make." Loviano glared.

"And you've been making good choices?" Loviano eyed the Canadian, then he held out the phone.

"Take it," and he did.

Matthew looked at the caller ID but only saw a number. "Hello. Who is this?"

Gilbert was taken aback, wasn't this the quiet American? "It's Gilbert- uh, Prussia."

"You, are you dying too?"

"Ja."

Matthew walked up to the defeated Italian and placed his arm around him. "Listen, I get you're stressed but arguing isn't going to help anyone… I think you should tell your brother."

"I can't do that," Gilbert whined, "I'm supposed to protect him."

"It's not going to protect him if you vanish one day never to be seen again. Please, just tell him." There was click, and the call was over.

Gilbert put his phone in his pocket and watched the darkness of the night a few moments longer.

"Bruder?" he heard behind him and his hair stood up on his neck. "What are you doing out here?"


End file.
